


Stop the World 'cause I Wanna Get Off With You

by bulletsandbutterflies (turningpages)



Series: Mad Sounds [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Possessive John, Rough Sex, Sherlock Is Insatiable, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turningpages/pseuds/bulletsandbutterflies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is Sherlock's university professor. That doesn't stop Sherlock from wanting John in him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop the World 'cause I Wanna Get Off With You

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what I do when I don't know how to finish writing my WIP fic. For those of you who are still waiting for the next chapter, please accept this as an apology for not updating soon enough!

John locks the door of his flat before leaning against the door with a heavy sigh.

It’s been a long day. Thursdays are always the worst, with John working from ten in the morning until seven at night. John loves his molecular cell biology, but having to teach it for almost nine hours straight is something he definitely does not like doing. Not to mention the fact that he still has to finish grading two hundred and eight-nine term papers before the week is over. John can literally feel his brain melting just from thinking about what he has to do, although he knows it’s a scientific impossibility.

Moving from the door, John shuffles slowly to the kitchen. His stomach’s been growling since noon – whoever made the damn schedule forgot the fact that John, like any _other_ human being, has to eat – and all he wanted now is to heat something up in the microwave, devour it, take a nice hot shower, and go to bed. He can sleep in tomorrow. He only has a class in the afternoon.

Opening his fridge, John finds the frozen pizza leftover from last night’s dinner. Peeling the cling wrap off the plate, he sticks it in the microwave and sets the time to two minutes. While he waits, he decides to make a cup of tea.

Just as he’s about to take a sip of his English breakfast – it always has a calming effect on him after a long day – he hears, “You’re late John,” coming from behind him.

Gasping, John drops his mug and swivels around, instinctively turning himself to soldier mode, and comes face to face with his student-cum-boyfriend wearing nothing but a sheet wrapped loosely around his waist.

“ _Jesus_ , Sherlock, I told you to stop doing that!” John whisper-shouts, half wanting to get the point across but half aware of the thin walls of the apartment building. Sure he lives quite far away from the university, assuring that no other teachers live by, but he still doesn't want to get complaints about noise levels.

“You’re late,” Sherlock says again with a pout, ignoring John’s reprimand entirely. “I’ve been waiting since five o’clock, and it’s currently eight. You made me wait three hours.”

“Sherlock, your last class ends at six-thirty,” John points out with another heavy sigh, running his hand through his hair before stooping down to pick up the broken pieces. “I also vividly remember telling you to stop skipping classes.”

“I’ve read everything on the subject already,” Sherlock whines and slinks closer to John, who by this time had thrown the remains of his favorite mug in the bin. “Plus, Barrows is so boring. I’d rather be here with you.”

“You know I work until seven on Thursdays,” John voice softens, and he wraps his arms around his lover’s waist. He’s still mad about the broken mug – it was his favorite, after all – but he can never resist Sherlock for too long. Pulling Sherlock’s body closer to his, John is only a little bit surprised to feel Sherlock’s erection pressing against his thigh.

“You’re hard.”

“Obviously,” Sherlock rolls his eyes, and in retaliation John presses himself harder against Sherlock, earning a small moan from the dark haired nineteen-year old. “You should really stop stating what’s – _oh_ – undoubtedly evident.”

“How long?” John asks, mouthing a series of kisses down the length of Sherlock’s pale throat.

“Uh, what?” Sherlock asks back, voice sounding strained, and John knows he’s successfully distracted the normally composed young man. 

“How long have you been in the state of erection?” John repeats the question, cupping Sherlock’s cock in his hand. Sherlock breathes in deeply, his exhale ending in a desperate whimper.

“Three hours,” he whispers hoarsely before clearing his throat. “I considered masturbating to relieve myself, but it didn’t feel as good.”

“And so you’ve been hard for three straight hours?”

“Yes,” Sherlock nods, and then in an annoyed tone, “Why do you keep asking me to repeat things? You know how much I dislike repetition.”

Deciding that Sherlock sounds too petulant for someone who has been horny for three hours, John bites down on the juncture between Sherlock’s neck and shoulder, causing Sherlock to buck his hips against his and effectively leaving Sherlock wordless. 

“You’ve been hard for three hours for me?”

“Yes,” Sherlock whispers breathlessly as John bites down on his shoulder again.

“ _Only_ me.” And this time John is making a statement, as opposed to asking a question. Sherlock is _his_. There’s no questioning that.

“Yes, John, just you,” Sherlock agrees, writhing against John now in an effort to get off by rubbing himself on John’s leg. When John stills his hips with his hands, Sherlock whines. “John, please, I can’t.”

“You can’t what, Sherlock?” John asks with a smirk, tugging on Sherlock’s hair to expose more of his neck. After leaving another mark, relishing the groan that escapes from Sherlock’s sinful mouth, John asks, “Sherlock, what do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Sherlock looks pleadingly into John’s eyes. “Fuck me, John.”

With a growl, John brings Sherlock’s slightly parted lips to his own in a sloppy kiss. He sucks lightly on Sherlock’s lower lip and slips his tongue in when Sherlock lets out another moan. Dragging him by the sheet, John leads Sherlock to his bedroom (well, he suppose its their bedroom now, with the amount of nights Sherlock bunks in John’s flat instead of his own dorm room). When he’s sitting down on the bed, Sherlock climbs on his lap and proceeds to take his jumper off.

“Impatient, are we?” John chuckled as Sherlock fumbled with the buckle of his belt.

“Again, stating the obvious,” Sherlock grumbles and starts tugging on the belt instead when his fingers fail to do the job properly. “John, this belt is against us having sexual intercourse.”

Laughing, John bats Sherlock’s hands away and pushes him off his lap. Ignoring the confused – and slightly hurt – look on Sherlock’s face, he chucks off both his trousers and boxers before settling back on the bed, leaning his back on the headboard.

“Take your sheet off.”

At the order, Sherlock let out a small sound – his pupils visibly darkening – and immediately drops the sheet. John makes a “come here” motion with his hand, and without hesitation, Sherlock rushes to the bed and assumes his earlier position on John’s lap. 

“Where did you leave the lube this time?”

“There’s no need for that,” Sherlock says as he tries to capture John’s lips for another kiss. “I’ve fingered myself open while I waited for you.”

John moans at the mental image of his boyfriend fucking himself on his fingers, feeling his cock harden even further (God how is that even possible at this stage?). He slips a finger into Sherlock’s hole, causing the other man to keen at the sudden intrusion, and finds it wet and adequately stretched.

“ _Christ_ , don’t tell me you fingered yourself for three hours.”

“Does it really matter, John?” Sherlock asks impatiently, rocking back and forth on the finger in him. “Just fuck me now.”

John pulls his finger out, and Sherlock groans at the loss. 

“You’ve been a very bad student, Mr. Holmes,” John says quietly. Sherlock eyes widen. Then, he smirks.

“Yes, Professor Watson. I’ve been a very naughty boy.”

“You should be punished.”

“Then punish me, Professor.” 

For a moment, John considers spanking him. But he's so hard it's starting to hurt that he saves the idea for another time.

“Fuck yourself on my cock,” John orders.

Not waiting another second longer, Sherlock impales himself on John’s cock, moaning as he takes in John’s full length. John clenches his fist in effort not to come in that moment, feeling Sherlock’s wet, warm, tight hole swallow him up.

“Oh God, John, you’re so _thick_ ,” he sighs as he moves his hips in a circular motion. Before long, Sherlock’s bouncing on John’s cock. When he lets out a loud wail, John knows he’s found his prostate.

“ _Christ_ , Sherlock, you should see yourself,” John says, trying not to thrust up into that delicious heat. “Do you know how gorgeous you look, pleasuring yourself on my cock?”

Sherlock moans as he continues to fuck himself on John’s length, holding on to John’s thighs for support. When he’s close – and John now knows the subtle signs indicating Sherlock’s impending orgasm like the pitch of his moans and the increased trembling of his muscles– John holds on to his slim hips and starts thrusting upwards into the keening man, making Sherlock scream, “Yes, John, _fuck_ , yes!”

After only a few more thrusts, Sherlock cries out, coming all over his stomach, his muscles clenching John’s cock tightly. He leans his head back with his eyes closed, bruised neck bared, lips swollen and red, and the sight makes John completely lose it.

With a growl, he switches their position so that the still dazed Sherlock is now under him. Placing one long leg over his shoulder, John begins pounding into the over sensitized Sherlock, making him moan and whimper with each thrust. Wanting to see Sherlock lose himself completely, John takes Sherlock’s cock in his hand. Sherlock shakes his head with a groan.

“No, John, _please_ , it’s too much.”

Ignoring Sherlock’s desperate pleas, John speeds up his thrusts and his hand, until he feels Sherlock growing hard again. When he’s fully hard, John let go of his dick and takes his hands in one of his instead, bringing it up above his head, keeping Sherlock steady with his other hand on Sherlock’s thigh. Distantly, John can hear the bed pounding against the wall and if he weren’t so busy trying to fuck Sherlock into the mattress, he would probably be worried about what his next-door neighbor is thinking. Instead, he bends down to suck one of Sherlock’s nipples, making Sherlock writhe underneath him. Shifting Sherlock's hips upwards a bit, John finds Sherlock's prostate as he fucks him deeper, and Sherlock starts bucking up into John’s thrusts.

“ _God_ , there John, _right there_!” Sherlock moans loudly as John continues to hit his sensitive spot with each shove of his cock. “Harder, John, Jo- _ahh_ , yes, yes, _yes_! Fuck yes, oh God, _please_ , like that, just like – _fuck_!”

It doesn’t take long for Sherlock to come again, this time close to _screaming_ John's name and untucking the sheets from the sides from clenching it too tightly. John groans at the feel of Sherlock’s hole contracting around his length, the tightness and the sinful sounds pouring from Sherlock's mouth pushing him over the edge. After a few more hard thrusts, he stills as he empties himself in Sherlock, who trembles and moans with every spurt. When he’s finished, John pulls out slowly and slumps on his back next to his lover. Both of them are panting.

“That was glorious,” Sherlock murmurs when he’s regained his normal breathing pattern. John gathers him up in his arms and kisses his dark curly hair. “I should call you professor more often before sex.”

John chuckles as Sherlock nuzzles his neck. “I guess I might have a kink.”

“We should have sex in your office,” Sherlock suggests with a sleepy yawn. “I’m sure that would satisfy your professor kink.”

John feels a spike of arousal as his mind is filled with the mental image of Sherlock bent over a desk, moaning and frantically grappling for something to hold onto as he’s fucked senseless from behind. 

“Maybe next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how long professors work. Please just give me the benefit of the doubt. 
> 
> Plus I'm in love with Arctic Monkey's newest album right now, hence the title.
> 
> If you like this PWP, and you want some angsty porn, check out my other Sherlock fic [_Stay (With Me Always)_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/763628)! :)
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated, as usual! (if the response is positive, I might want to make a sequel involving Sherlock bent over a table)


End file.
